So I have a test tomorrow, which means I'm at my most creative, because I want to do none of the studying and all of the procrastinating. I started this during lunch just for fun and kinda kept going.
It's sort of based on my own life. I just intertwined mine and Quinn's. I don't know how much of it I'm going to write. Because the beginning of this story happened four years ago for me.
Everything up until the beginning of senior year is canon for this story. And sort of up until Quinn's accident, except Rachel never went back to Finn after New York. And yeah that doesn't canonically make sense because Quinn was on her way to their wedding when she crashed. But you've seen the alternate universe Christmas episode, Quinn was always supposed to get into that car crash.
Kidding, mostly.
But this is all I did. I'm thinking about either adding more to it or keeping it as a one-shot and then maybe write more one-shots in the same universe.
Either way, here's something.
/
Every time someone asks you the question, your answer is always the same.
"I've only ever been in love once," you say. "And I have never been more consumed by anything in my life."
Some people love easily. Others have a harder time.
It's possible that for those who were born in love, who were raised with love, who knew what it was like to feel unconditional love… well it's easier for them to give love.
It's a fair assumption, you suppose, but not an excuse.
Never an excuse.
You both had been children then, easily controlled by your own emotions. Anyone could rewrite what you had as nothing more of a temporary love between two adolescent teenagers.
But that would be just too easy, wouldn't it?
/
Things always start out simple.
A bus ride back home, fingers running through your hair, a sigh into the pillow you've conveniently placed onto her lap.
It amazed you how easily you'd become comfortable with this… connection.
You didn't really think anything of it at the time. That would've made it too complicated. You were just happy that finally someone saw you, actually saw you for you and not for who you've made yourself out to be.
In a span of three months, she had become your best friend. You'd started to learn who you were, because she began to push you to. It took you a messed up childhood, a teenage pregnancy, the aftermath, a weird summer followed by a completely insane period of mental deficiency, and an accident to completely lose your way.
It took one girl to help find you.
Out of every single person in this world, it was Rachel Berry you let in.
Everyday she was unrelenting. Until one day she was irrefutable.
She didn't just happen to you.
She didn't just suddenly come into your life.
No, she pushed, shoved, and demanded to be in it.
And then eventually, you found yourselves in constant communication with each other. When she wasn't in your presence, when you weren't in hers, you found a way to remain tethered. If it wasn't your phones, it was instant messaging. If it wasn't instant messaging, it was probably nothing. And when it was nothing, you felt empty.
You didn't even notice it happening. You were just glad you had someone to talk to, who you realized wouldn't judge you.
But other people noticed.
You didn't think it was as big of a deal as the rest of the world thought it was. Joining Glee club had already been the pinpoint to revolutionizing how you came to view high school. And so maybe you and Rachel did kinda have a rivalry thing going on in the beginning. And yeah, maybe you had both dated around somewhat but nothing worked out for either of you really.
You both entered senior year single and independent. And you can't really speak for Rachel, but you really did mean it when you swore off boys and popularity and the skirts and the pom-poms. You just didn't care about all that stuff anymore. And just like that, a burden was lifted. Washes of relief flooded out.
And maybe you did go a little crazy. Sure, it was a rocky at the beginning. But it was somehow a compensation for not knowing what to do after living your life under a heavy burden.
Thankfully, Rachel stepped in with her excessive empathy and inability to not care.
And then you were in a bubble for a while.
/
You never really noticed how… touchy Rachel was.
You weren't used to it at first, all that physical contact. If she'd noticed, she never said anything. She probably knew it would make you more uncomfortable to point it out. Eventually, you got used to her practically sitting on your lap, or drawing circles on your back when you were both in class. Eventually, you began to do it too.
You don't even remember the first time you held hands, though looking back, you do remember that you did it a lot. But it was never obvious, not in the obnoxious way that people do when they walk around in public. It was always natural, during an intimate, innocent moment, like on a quiet bus ride home.
You know that the first time it happened, she was the one that initiated it. There was no way in hell that it could've been you that did. She didn't try to slide her hand into yours or suddenly grab onto it until you held hers back. You don't even know how you knew what she wanted. You just intertwined your fingers and continued on whatever it was you were doing. You don't remember where you were or when it was, only that it was just the two of you when she turned her palm up and wiggled her fingers.
There is a good chance that it was probably in her car one day on the way the home from school.
After the accident, she was your personal chauffer. You never asked her to be, she just began to drive you everywhere. Even after she'd helped you learn to walk again, she knew you weren't ready to drive. She didn't mind and neither did you.
Then the both of you just started to have habits.
If there was ever a small moment, where it was just the two of you, like if you were watching a movie at her house, or like that one time you both snuck out to watch the meteor shower that was happening at three in the morning, or every time you were next to each other in the car, whether she was driving or not, you just always found your hand in hers.
It wasn't just holding hands. Every time you were in the backseat on your way to somewhere far enough, she always brought a pillow to place on her lap for you to put your head on so that she could rub her hand up and down your back until you knocked out.
"I don't really sleep at night," was one of the first things you'd ever confessed to her.
It wasn't a big reveal, but it was the most you could've done at that moment.
At first, you thought that it was just her being touchy, which you're sure was part of it, but later on you realized that the light massages and fingers through your hair (which was, actually still is your favorite feeling) was also because she was looking out for you, for your health.
You never found out if you had legitimate insomnia back then. Maybe you did and it was a light case, who knows?
All you know is that she hated knowing that you were suffering lying awake in bed while she slept at night. So she began to stay up texting with you until you both fell asleep.
And on the nights when she was too tired to keep her eyes open, she would call you and stay on the phone as long as she could.
When she did, you usually read to her.
She was always the one to fall asleep first on those nights.
The sound of her breathing was soothing. You usually fell asleep right after.
/
You were almost thankful for your insomnia when she had appendicitis one week.
During one of the few classes that the both of you didn't have together, she texted you that her daddy had just picked her up from school and that she was on the way to the hospital.
You freaked out and ran out of class and to the parking lot, even though you knew there was no way they were still on campus.
What happened? Are you okay?
It took her a whole minute to reply.
I'm in the waiting room. I started to feel pain in my abdomen during class so I called my daddy to come get me. We're waiting for the doctor. I can't text you while I'm in there. Don't tell anyone I'm here.
You texted her back and told her to let you know as soon as she can, which you knew she would.
And then you held on to your phone and refused to put it away until she called you.
It took about one whole class period for your phone to ring.
"It's my appendix," she said, "Appendicitis, actually. My appendix is inflamed but thankfully, it hasn't burst. I'm going to have surgery to remove it before it does."
You only felt slightly relieved.
Later on, your insomnia wouldn't let you sleep. So you were awake when she sent you a text at three in the morning.
She told you she was bored and that she couldn't sleep because she was uncomfortable.
And that the nurse was inadequate and that she wished you could've visited but that it was okay because she knew there was no way you could have gotten there.
"I could've tried to drive," you sighed.
"It's on the other side of town, Quinn."
"I'd drive slow."
"Then you'd be in the car longer than you needed to be."
"Still."
"You don't even have a car. And I know your mom wouldn't let you use hers."
You knew she was going to win the argument. She always did. So you changed the topic and fell asleep an hour later during her explanation of how they drilled two small holes into her abdomen before digging out her appendix.
/
It took you a few times to really get comfortable with her family.
It was to be expected.
They're completely different from yours.
Hiram has always been nothing kind to you. You understood immediately where Rachel got her compassion from.
The first time you were alone with him was one day when you decided to walk to their house.
You timed it perfectly so that you would be there around the time Rachel would have been back from her weekly dance practice, but that day she decided to be so tired that she couldn't do anything to prevent herself from falling asleep as soon as she got home.
Hiram let you in and told you that Rachel had fallen asleep and that he'd be in the living room watching TV.
You recite a polite thank you and a smile before you kick off your shoes and make your way up the stairs to the bedroom on the right.
It was unusually quiet, you thought, because the Berry residence was always loud.
But at that moment, the source of the loudness had been lightly snoring and was sprawled out on her stomach, limbs out like a starfish, which you knew she only did when she was really tired.
You lied down on your side next to her and traced your fingers up and down her back.
"Rach," you whispered delicately from a distance, head propped up by your elbow.
You scooted in closer and lowered your head until your lips just ghosted above her ear.
"Rachel…" you tried again.
But the girl barely stirred.
You frowned and sank into your initial position, continuing the light massages for just a few more minutes before carefully slipping off of the bed and out the door.
You'd found yourself walking towards the faint sounds of the TV in the living room. From what you could tell, a reality show was on.
"Don't judge me," Hiram said.
You just shrugged.
"I just thought Rachel was all the drama you would need."
That was the first time you made him laugh on your own and you spent the next hour or so trying to be funny by making comments about the show that you thought he would enjoy.
He asked you questions about your life that were light enough for you to be able to come up with a generic answer. You were thankful the questions weren't hard-hitting. You knew you wouldn't have been able to answer those.
He probably knew you wouldn't, either.
He was perceptive, you decided, just like Rachel.
Rachel may have acquired her dramatic tendencies from this man, but she also mirrored his heart.
Hiram radiated love the moment you met him.
Talking with him then only proved what she knew about Rachel. And it was that genuine and selfless, she loved without expecting love in return.
They gave and asked for nothing back.
You don't remember falling asleep.
But you do remember waking up to someone rubbing lightly against your back and the sound of Rachel's voice explaining to her father how tired she had been lately.
"Maybe take a break for a few days. Go downtown or to the lake. Take Quinn. It's the summer. Don't vienna, darling," you hear from your place sandwiched between the brunette and the couch. You turned to curl a bit into the girl who sat at your waist.
"Vienna is my favorite Billy Joel song," she told you later in the week when her dad had suggested they at least walk to the park down the street.
You were hanging upside down on the monkey bars. You were more flexible then, when you were younger, even more before the accident. It was your favorite thing to do on the playground as a child. It still gave you the same feeling, blood rushing to your head, like a temporary high, only your dangling arms were now longer and your hands were closer to the ground, which means it was less of a risk.
There was probably a hint of irony in there somewhere, you suppose.
Rachel was leaning against the side, arms crossed, watching the color rush to your head.
"You may not already know this about me," she started with a tone of voice that you already knew the next words were going to be subtly laced with sarcasm, "but I'm generally not a laid-back person."
You snickered.
You secretly loved how sarcastic she had become since you'd been hanging out because you knew she picked it up from you. It's something she never got rid of.
You knew it was something she didn't like at first.
"It's funny," you explained.
"It's lying," she retorted.
"Oh my god seriously?" you groaned while she began to explain to you how insincere it was to be sarcastic because it meant you had to say something that you actually didn't mean.
"That's the point," you told her. "Saying something sarcastically doesn't mean you're trying to hide anything. It's a form of wit that's at least humorous when you're making fun of someone. "
"You would know, wouldn't you?"
It was quick and painful, like many of the words you had used in the past.
She was challenging you to regress. You knew she that's what she was doing. You were taken aback at first and her eyes softened, but you knew she wanted to see how you would react.
You squinted your eyes.
"Of course," you started slowly, "because we both know I'm the funnier one."
She beamed and you couldn't help but feel overwhelmed at the idea that she proud of you.
Your favorite Billy Joel song is The Longest Time.
"Noooo," you supplied, "you mean you're not always calm? You hide it so well."
She rolled her eyes.
"Slow down, you crazy child. You're so ambitious for a juvenile, but then if you're so smart, tell me why are you still so afraid," she began to sing like you knew she would.
"Whenever I get ahead of myself or start to overdo things, my fathers remind me of that song. It reminds me to just take a step back and breathe."
You smiled at her anecdote. You loved when she talked like that, when she talked to you about anything, really.
Your eyes were still closed when she finished the rest of the song.
/
She found it fitting that your favorite word is solace.
It also made her sad.
But she understood.
"Comfort or consolation in a time of distress or sadness," she read.
You just nodded.
It's somewhat masochistic of you for your favorite word to be both bittersweet and uplifting at the same time.
It could have easily been hope, or serenity, or tranquility, but no… your favorite word had to have the definition of consolation amidst tragedy.
"That's beautiful," her words carefully whispered.
Even though it was a complete accident, and she was just being a dork by asking you random questions, this particular one somehow made her understand you a little better.
You couldn't see her at that moment, but you could imagine her face softening.
"Hey," you said, just before you smiled to lighten up the mood. "This would be more fun if I were faced the other way."
To which Rachel responded by reverted back to excitement.
You told her to calm down.
"But then we won't finish."
"We have enough time. Why do you get to be on top?"
"Because Quinn, where although I have my own set of talents, I also lack in some areas, mostly physically. You, on the other hand, do not… in this particular… skill… set. You would crush me. You're stronger."
"Not if we were careful! Plus I didn't know that I would be doing all the muscle work today. Why can't we just use a…"
"Because gay men are known for having tools?!"
"Shut up, I know for a fact that your dads have one. And I know where it is."
"Do not leave. Just be quiet and let me finish."
"Girls, do you need any help?" We heard Hiram from the front door.
"YES" "NO"
"RACHEL" "QUINN"
"But I'm tired," you complained. "I don't even understand why we're putting up Christmas lights on your front porch. You're Jewish… and you're heavy." You teased.
She had been mounted on your shoulders, her idea.
"You're a cheerleader, you have the upper body strength to lift me up." She had argued earlier, but you knew she just wanted to pretend to be a cheerleader for even a few minutes.
After about fifteen minutes of arguing, you finally caved in, which is why you found yourself early December on a Friday afternoon holding onto Rachel Berry's ankles, who stood on your shoulders as you tryied to keep your balance while she hooked Christmas lights to the roof of her house.
"See? Isn't this more fun than using a ladder?" She bellowed.
"Maybe for you," you retorted. "I should be facing the other way so that I could at least watch the cars go by. I've memorized the front of your house by now."
She just laughed, knowing full well that your complaints weren't genuine.
"Then sing something for me," she demanded. It's something she asked you to do a lot.
As much as she loved to sing for people, sometimes she just wanted to be the one someone sang to.
You were glad she picked you.
You sang 'O Holy Night.'